Romanian Blood
by LetsWriteShitFanfics
Summary: Does anybody still read these? Fic chronicles the years between 1422 and 1462 which if you paid attention to the movie... you get the idea. May or may not include a bit of slash at some point, I haven't decided. Please read and let me know how you feel (if there are still VH fanfic readers out there) Cheers.
1. Chapter 1

The little lord was born in the high summer of 1422, on a sunlit afternoon in the sleepy Transylvanian village of Vaseria, while the villagers were working bent-backed in the hot haze, cutting the dry meadow grass that stretched like carpet at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains. His arrival into the world was announced by a vigorous ringing of the bell tower, and all at once everything stopped. Those in the village market stood still, those cutting hay lowered their scythes, raised their heads to listen to the bells resounding throughout the meadows, and after a long, breathless moment, every one of them threw their hands into the sun-dusted air in praise of the joyous occasion.

Only a tiny baby being cradled in his father's arms, this child would be the next ruler of the province; a leader, a warrior, the most important vessel of life in all of Transylvania. His birth hadn't been an easy one, however, there had been panic at the scene. When the child finally emerged they saw that the red rope which bound mother to baby was wrapped tight around his neck, and he lay there almost lifeless in the sheets with not even enough breath to cry out. His father, a prestigious knight named Valerious the Elder, swiftly drew a knife and cut the cord from the child's neck, sweeping him from the gore-stained sheets into his embrace, the baby's breath hitched, and he let out his first scream. Valerious collapsed to his knees upon the flagstones in relief. He buried his head in the bundle, muttering praises to the Lord for finally granting him the gift of such a beautiful son. He kissed the baby again and again upon its brow, and baptized him with tears of joy. He turned to look fondly at his wife who lay exhausted and sweat-drenched upon the bed. His smile slowly faded, she was growing paler. Valerious watched the midwife and her frantic efforts to stop the blood which still gushed from her, and the maids who rushed back and forth from the room carrying armfuls of red-soaked sheets and replacing them. The bleeding would not stop. One life was granted, another was being taken away. Orianna, once considered the most beautiful woman in all of Romania, wife of Valerious the Elder, was dying. She turned her head weakly to look at him.

"_E bine?"_ she asked, "Is he okay?" and Valerious nodded.

"Let me hold him," she said, and her husband quickly obliged. She tucked her son snugly within her arms and smiled at him, his crying was instantly quieted. Barely strong enough to hold him tight, she pressed her own lips to the infant's forehead, and then relaxed her head back upon the pillow.

"He is perfect," she sighed, "_Dragul meu_ my love, you must promise me to name him as I told you."

"I promise, whole-heartedly," said Valerious, "His name will be Vladislaus."

"After my father," said Orianna, "Vladislaus Draculea, Vladislaus the Dragon. He will grow to be mightier than all the kings of the world, that I know," She said, "Please, don't take him away from me, not for a moment."

He did as she asked.

"Please my lady, do not leave me," he begged, but she silenced him by placing a hand on his lips.

"We will see each other again," she promised, and closed her eyes. Her hand slipped gently from her husband's lips. With her baby boy in her arms, Orianna breathed her last. Valerious fell to his knees once again, sobbing tears of heartbreak into the sheets, after believing only a few moments ago that nothing in life could ever take away the happiness he felt.

Vladislaus Draculia, the future Lord of Transylvania, the name travelled from country to country, as did the sad story of his motherlessness. In taverns all across Romania they spoke of the child and what a tragedy it was that he should never know his beautiful mother. Back in the House of Valerious, they struggled with the reality of it. Valerious himself had plunged into a period of deep mourning and subsequently paid little attention to the new-born, spending most of his days drinking in confinement. The housemaids and servants were solely responsible for the child. They took it in turns to raise the young lord, but each maid found coping with him a struggle. Everyone in that household knew that it was perfectly normal for a baby to scream, yet Vladislaus did nothing _but_ scream, and if he was not screaming it was only because he was sleeping or getting his feed, but he only slept in brief intervals, he would wake many times in the night and cry, and when it came to feeding he was very greedy, quickly sucking his wet nurses dry. The maids blessed God and his mercy once the child had been weaned off his milk.

Yet for all his faults, his screaming and tantrums, he grew to be an extraordinarily beautiful child, with no apparent brain-damage from the umbilical cord being wrapped around his throat. When his hair grew, it grew black as a raven's feather, his skin was smooth and pale, and with the most engaging blue eyes he looked out upon the world he would inherit with an intense and calculating gaze, drawing in everything around him, learning it, understanding it. An incredibly precocious boy, he learned to walk with minimal assistance from his maids, and once he had understood that the child he saw in the mirror was him, himself, his self, already he was his own person entirely, and would not let anybody influence his decision on anything. When his screaming finally stopped, again to the relief of those who served him, it was replaced by uncanny silence, the boy simply did not speak. At least, not very much. He was a lonely child, wandering his house in solitude, only occasionally venturing out to the village for public appearances, and while he was always greeted with love and admiration, he never reciprocated anything so much as a smile. He spent most of his other days learning how to wield a sword under his father's command, or learning to read, looking at picture books and drawing for hours at a time at his favourite window seat in the library, sometimes lifting his head from the paper beneath his hands to watch the birds bathing in the bird bath down below. The house stood at the top of a hill which formed a cliff and dropping away from him was the river that ran under the stone bridge leading to a path through the forest. From his position by the window he could follow the river's path and see the black rooftops and the little chimneypots of the rickety wooden houses that made up Vaseria, and the bell tower, and the church spire towering tall above it all, and the mountain and the meadows stretching away as far as the eye could see. From this window he would also watch the seasons come and go, the rain falling upon the lush green grass of spring, the dryness of summer, the beautiful autumn foliage dropping bit by bit from the trees until the newly bare branches became draped in cruel winter's snow.

One evening in early December, the boy could not sleep. Though he still threw occasional tantrums if he was upset, six year old Vladislaus had long since stopped crying for his maids and so slipped in silence out of bed to get himself a cup of milk. It was desperately cold that night, the wind was howling in the eaves, branches of the trees outside clattered loudly against the windows, particularly in the kitchen. The house was very eerie at night, the moonlight cast long shadows throughout the halls. Suits of armour, relics of his father's time in war, stood in various corners of the house, gleaming as though they were about to come alive. Vladislaus slipped quickly and quietly into the pantry to get his milk, it was very cold, his breath was coming out in plumes and he was shivering in his night clothes. He winced a little as he tried to shut the pantry door, it was old and wooden and creaked a great deal when it was shut, and then he began the journey back towards his bed, but not before he stopped in the dining hall to warm himself in front of the last flames of the fire and the coals that still glowed hot from his father's late night brooding. Still feeling wide awake, he decided to stay there awhile, curling up in his father's chair and sipping his milk from the chipped cup. The wind slowly seemed to die down, but the snow continued to whirl outside the large windows. Vladislaus at last began to drift toward sleep. Just as his eyes were beginning to close, he heard a noise then that jolted him awake, a loud and monstrous banging upon the kitchen door. Feeling suddenly afraid, Vladislaus dashed from his seat upon the chair, dropping the cup which broke into pieces upon the flagstones, he hid beneath the dining table and waited until his fear went away.

One of the younger maids, whose name was Petra, was first to arrive into the dining hall, exclaiming about the noise, an oil lantern swinging from her hand. She hurried through the hall and into the kitchen where Vladislaus heard her open the servant's door. He stayed there, shivering, freezing upon the stone flags. This house was _so _cold. He remained where he was, he did not want to be found out of bed after hours, and he was also oddly curious. Who would be banging upon the door at so late an hour? He heard Petra make a sound, the kitchen door was slammed shut once again, and then he heard a baby's cries echo through the hall, growing louder. Petra entered back through the dining hall, carrying a snow-covered infant in her arms, cooing it, shushing it, and cursing whoever it was that left this baby out in the snow. What if they had not heard the knocks? Petra sat down by the fire. A second maid, an older lady by the name of Emilia, quickly joined Petra. They removed the infant from its sodden blankets and wrapped it in their shawls.

"Quickly, take him to the nursery, we will look after him there. Vladislaus is not in his bed, I will find him, go!" Emilia told Petra, and she hurriedly took the baby away into the shadows of the house.

Emilia had noticed the drops of milk and bits of broken cup on the flagstones by the fireplace, she scoured the dining hall for any sign of the little lord, and saw him there, shivering terribly in the dark and the cold beneath the dining table. She gently coaxed him out, and he gratefully went with her. By morning, he was bed bound with a fever.

Over time, his father had begun to warm towards him, of course he had always loved the boy deeply within his heart, but grief had taken far too strong a hold upon him, and until young Vladislaus was taken ill the boy's only affection from his father had come only from his willingness to learn how to handle a sword and shield, and he handled them skilfully enough already to make the old man proud. Now at last hard feelings left behind after the death of Orianna had softened, and it was at this moment where Vladislaus was sick that his father came to see him in his room, he sat down upon the bed and placed a large hand upon his son's hot forehead.

"Oh _dragul meu,_ I pray this is not my penance for neglecting you, I'm sorry. I have not been there for you as I should have been, _iubitul meu,_ I'm sorry. Just please don't leave me for the Heavens, not yet. I have buried a wife, I should not have to bury my child. No parent should have to bury their child." He began to weep. "I'm not going to die," Vladislaus said in little more than a whisper, and without opening his eyes. His father heard the words and collapsed to the side of him, wrapped him in his arms and held him close, pressing his bearded mouth to the boy's brow again and again.

"I've brought you something," said Valerious, reaching down and placing a book in the child's lap, "It's a book of short tales of a particular kind called _Lais_, they were written two centuries ago, I think you would like them. Do you want me to read one to you now?"

"Yes," said the little lord, opening his eyes to look at the book.

"First though, there's something else I wish to tell you," said Valerious. Vladislaus looked up curiously.

"Is it about the baby? The baby I saw Petra bring in from the cold?"

"It is," said Valerious, "Normally I wouldn't do such a thing but, I believe this is for your benefit. You have a brother now, Vladislaus. I hope this makes you happy, you've always been so terribly lonely."

"What name have you given him?" asked Vladislaus, gripping the book of Lais tightly.

"I have not," said Valerious, to the young lord's surprise, "He came with a note tucked inside his blankets. Who knows where he came from, but I am sure, like you, he is a gift from God Himself. His name is Gabriel Van Helsing."


	2. Chapter 2

Vladislaus remained ill throughout the month of December, the illness that plagued him was a merciless one, and though he'd sworn he would not die, the nurses still feared that imminent death was upon him. They prayed night and day for the little lord to recover. Every day his father sat next to him and read him books, and every day Vladislaus would muster enough voice to ask about his little brother Gabriel. Slowly over the course of the month he showed signs of recovery, and Valerious believed he was fighting the illness just so that he could meet his brother. Vladislaus had been confined to his bedroom so as not to spread the illness to the new born. A couple of weeks after the New Year, Vladislaus was feeling much better, so much better than the nurses finally permitted him to enter the nursery where Gabriel lay in his crib. Valerious, overjoyed about his son's recovery, accompanied Vladislaus and lifted him up so he could look into the crib at the sleeping baby. Vladislaus reached down to touch Gabriel's little hand, and Gabriel held his fingers back. This made Valerious smile from ear to ear. He knew the two of them would be inseparable already.

"Remember, you two are not blood-brothers," said Valerious, "and he is not of our rank. Some noble families would have him grow to be a mere servant boy, but I can see the bond you two have already, so I will not do that to him. He will not be a lord of the land like you, but he may yet grow to be a knight. We shall see."

He put Vladislaus down on the floor, the young lord looked thoughtfully at him for a moment.

"Will we go to war like you did, Father? Will we get scars like you?" He pointed to the enormous scar adorning his father's right eye. It went from his forehead to almost halfway down his cheek. Up until recently Vladislaus had been frightened of the scar, but not anymore.

Valerious laughed and stood up straight, towering over him. He was a big man, though he was old, he was still strong and powerful, with long white hair and a beard that was braided in two, and when he walked through his house and rode his horse through Vaseria one could not help but to be awe-inspired by him, and though Vladislaus had conquered his fear of his father's ugly scar, he still could not help but feel a little afraid of his father when Valerious stood up straight like that, like a mountain, like a king.

"You'll be the leader of this land one day, my son. Of course you will, you'll be the one to lead an army out onto the battlefield," said Valerious, "Ugly scars upon your body will do better than death. However, do not worry just yet, that won't happen for a long time, these lands have known peace for a long while now, but nevertheless you will continue to train in the art of war, with sword and shield, with bow and spear, I have also arranged lessons on horseback for you. I've seen the way you wield a sword already, at only the age of six! You're going to be the greatest warrior for centuries."

Valerious put his hands on the crib and looked down at Gabriel, who was still sleeping peacefully.

"Now why," he asked, "were you not this good when you were an infant? Gabriel only ever sleeps, and you only ever cried. Perhaps it was your mother's death that tormented you, but like you, he too has no mother. Poor orphan, maybe it would be better to put him in the Cloth and send him to the monastery, but we have a lot of time to decide yet. Come on now Vladislaus," he reached down and ruffled his son's inky hair, "it's time for training. I've taken the liberty of finding you a sparring partner, perhaps even a friend."

The months went by, Gabriel grew, faster than Valerious could have imagined a baby growing. The maids grew to be fonder of Gabriel more than they were of Vladislaus, because Gabriel gave them no trouble, he was not wayward, he hardly cried. Vladislaus knew this. They never were as affectionate with him as they were with Gabriel. They would coo and fuss over the baby all the time, and he would gurgle happily in response, squealing when they tickled his little feet and blew raspberry kisses on his belly. It was not that the maids did not care about Vladislaus, they just felt unnerved by him, simply because he was so different. Gabriel was like any other baby, warm and smelling of milk. He did not feel jealousy though, not as of yet. He did not care for the maids and their affections. They served him, and that sufficed. Only Emilia cared for Vladislaus like a mother would her own child.

Gabriel grew happy and healthy, and equally as beautiful as Vladislaus but in a different way, he was honey-skinned with hair and eyes that were brown and warm, the opposite of Vladislaus whose skin was pale and hair was black and eyes that were cool blue. The two made an odd but enchanting match. Everywhere Vladislaus went, Gabriel would want to go, and Vladislaus often carried Gabriel with him before Gabriel learned to walk properly. The two of them did everything together, Vladislaus would sit Gabriel upon his knee in the library and read to him from the books and show him illustrations, and point to things outside the window so that Gabriel learned what everything was.

"Mountain," Vladislaus would say, pointing toward the snow-peaked Carpathians, and traced his finger along the horizon, naming everything he saw, getting closer and closer to the house until stopping at the garden below the window, and Gabriel would attempt to repeat each word that Vladislaus said accordingly. Vladislaus would then take out a book with colourful illustrations and show Gabriel the pictures. This book was a book of legendary creatures, some of which were monsters. Vladislaus flipped through the pages until he came across one in particular, which had a painting of a huge beastly creature, with long pointed ears and many sharp fangs that were inches long and protruded from an enormous gaping mouth that dripped with blood and saliva. Its body was massive, muscular, and growing on its back were two large membranes stretching out behind it like bat's wings. Its eyes glinted like pools of liquid silver, full of malice and evil-intention. "This is known as a Hell-Beast," said Vladislaus, but when Gabriel saw the image he began to sniffle and cry, so Vladislaus closed the book.

It was around this time that Valerious the Elder began courting several noble women from countries all over Europe, one in particular he set his eyes on was a Moldovan beauty named Yuliana Ionesco. After a time Valerious decided that he would make this countess his new wife, and upon his decision he introduced her one evening to Vladislaus and Gabriel. They met in the hall of the house, three year old Gabriel was indifferent to the lady from Moldova, but nine year old Vladislaus was cold towards her when she bowed to him.

"Little lord," said Yuliana, "It's a great pleasure to meet you. I am Yuliana, your father's new bride. I hope to be accepted as a mother figure to you, though of course I cannot replace Orianna, I hope she found peace in God's Arms."

Vladislaus said nothing but continued to scowl, there was something about this Moldovan countess that he did not like at all, she gave off a strange energy. He turned to walk back toward his rooms. Gabriel, sucking vigorously on one thumb, followed.

"Vladislaus!" shouted Valerious, Vladislaus had never heard his father speak to him with such a voice before, he turned to look back at them.

"You do not do that," he said, "And you do not teach Gabriel such manners, now come back here." But Vladislaus disobeyed, and went back to his rooms with Gabriel following idly. Valerious begged his new bride to excuse him and went in pursuit of the two boys.

"I will not have my mother replaced!" said Vladislaus, throwing himself upon the bed, "I will not!"

"She is not there as a replacement for Orianna," said Valerious, "That is not her purpose. But I have grown lonely in my older years and I wish to have the company of a lady. Throw your fits all you like, Vladislaus, it won't change anything."

"I will never call her mother," he said.

"You will not have to, you will address her as Yuliana, because she is not your mother, but I expect you to be respectful and courteous as a young lord should be. You too will have to court women one day, and that day will dawn sooner than you think."

He left, without ordering Vladislaus to follow. The doors were shut and soon it was bedtime. When the morning came, Vladislaus was due to have another lesson of sword-fighting with a boy of his age from Vaseria in the courtyard. The two fought with wooden sticks instead of swords for safety, but that did not mean that the wooden sticks wouldn't hurt if you were hit with one. After a few rounds of sparring, Vladislaus caught the boy hard on the wrist, so hard he dropped his own stick and, wincing, backed off holding his injured hand. A few tears stung the boy's eyes, and Vladislaus looked at him scornfully.

"Pathetic," he said under his breath, and the boy heard him. He hurriedly picked his stick up and attacked Vladislaus again, but his attacks were swiftly blocked. He stumbled past, and Vladislaus hit him again, once in the lower back. The boy landed face-first on the hard ground. He felt a foot on his back, and the edge of the wooden stick being pressed into the back of his neck. The boy began to sniffle again, growing angry at his own tears.

"You think crying will gain you mercy in a fight?"

"_Nu_," said the boy, bitterly, "Please, get off me."

"Imagine if this was a real sword," said Vladislaus, and pressed the stick harder on the back of the boy's neck, "I could cut off your head."

"Vladislaus!" the voice of Valerious boomed around the courtyard as he entered it from the door to the house. Vladislaus removed the stick from the back of the boy's head, and his foot from the boy's back. He stepped away. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran, rubbing the back of his neck. He was sore, and upset. He turned and gave Vladislaus a dirty look.

"You are cruel, and a bully!" he cried, "I don't want to practice with you anymore." He went to the courtyard gates and ordered them to be opened, he left without another word. Valerious stood with his arms folded and looked down at his son. Vladislaus likewise folded his arms, expecting a telling off.

"Ignore him, Vladislaus, I witnessed the whole thing. Unless he changes that attitude, he'll do no good in battle," said Valerious, "Come now, it's time to eat. Go and wash your hands."

Vladislaus followed his father indoors and went to wash his hands, standing and soaking them in warm water in the basin. The small window above the basin was slightly broken, and let in not only a cold draught, but sometimes all manner of tiny creatures looking to get out of the cold. On this particular instance, there was a very large, abnormally large black beetle hiding in the corner of the window ledge. Vladislaus would normally have crushed it, but he had no weapon to hit it with. This beetle was so fascinatingly large too, that he decided he couldn't possibly kill such a spectacle. Instead he went a got a little box from his bed chamber, a box he kept an assortment of little findings in, animal hair, pebbles and dried flowers. He tipped out the box's contents into a drawer and returned to the privy. He picked up the scrabbling beetle between thumb and forefinger and placed it inside the little box. He hurried back to his bedroom to put the box back on the book shelf from which it came, brushed his fingers on his clothes and then went to the dining room.

"You took your time," said Yuliana, who was sitting upright and daintily eating her soup, making sure not a drop of it ever left her mouth or fell from her spoon. A maid to the side of her was trying to feed Gabriel, who was squirming around in his chair and refusing to eat his food properly. Some sort of pale pulp, presumably a mix of soup and bread, oozed out from between his lips and landed unceremoniously on the napkin he wore upon his front, much to the maid's dismay. Vladislaus almost couldn't blame him for not wanting to eat it. Yuliana's eyes flitted occasionally to Gabriel, then promptly back again, for she didn't want to be put off her food. She didn't seem to approve of Gabriel. Vladislaus did not speak to her and sat at the opposite end of the table, and began tearing apart a big chunk of bread.

"Your father tells me you upset a boy today," said Yuliana, "Do you want to tell me why?"

"No," said Vladislaus, and bit into the bread, he made sure to eat quickly, with a mouth full of bread and soup he could not talk to her.

"I understand your grievances, little lord," said Yuliana, "I hope me and you can learn to be friends someday. I wish you no ill-will."

Vladislaus continued not to speak to her, he picked up his soup bowl and began to drink from it. A look of horror crossed Yuliana's face.

"Vladislaus, where are you manners?" she said shrilly, and shrieked as a piece of sodden bread flew across the table and landed upon her breast. She brushed it off briskly with her hand and stood up. Furious, she glared at Gabriel who was giggling and squirming in his seat while the maid mopped his chin and looked apologetic.

"Little wretch!" said Yuliana, "Little mongrel wretch!"

"He is not a wretch!" Vladislaus suddenly shouted, she looked at him in shock and saw that his eyes were full of fury, "You'll do well to never speak to my brother like that again!"

"I am sorry," said Yuliana quickly, and walked around to drop to her knees at the side of him, "I am sorry. Please grant me your forgiveness, little lord. I was angry but I should have held my tongue."

Vladislaus said nothing, he slipped off his chair and went to pick up Gabriel. He walked with Gabriel out of the dining hall, giving Yuliana a quick glance from over his shoulder. The countess from Moldova remained on her knees upon the stone flags.


End file.
